


An Esper's Upbringing

by Lalafell_Princess



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21537649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalafell_Princess/pseuds/Lalafell_Princess
Summary: Terra and Kefka reminisce about when they first met.
Relationships: Tina Branford | Terra Branford & Kefka Palazzo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	An Esper's Upbringing

I don’t remember much of my early childhood. Gray walls and misty windows blur together in my mind when I try to recall those thoughts. The first vivid memory I have is when magic began to awaken in my body. Sparks would carelessly fly from my tiny toddler hands, and I would shriek in fear. The flames would only grow, fueled by my heightened emotional state. Many rooms in the castle were smoldered by my uncontainable magic. Several people tried to console me and get these fits under control, but no one actually knew how magic worked, so their help was useless. I was inconsolable, convinced something was wrong with me, that I was going to die in a fire of my own making. That’s when I was taken to him… the only other person in the castle, no, in the entire world, that could relate to my plight.

His appearance was so vastly different from everything else around me—bright, harsh colors, as opposed to the castle’s bleak shades of gray and black—and I took comfort in it. “Are you a clown?” I’d asked him. He’d already begun coating himself in white makeup, though the red intricacies on his face would evolve over time. The edges of his pale lips quirked up into a sneer. “I suppose you could say that. Though I prefer the term ‘court mage.’” It was then that he showed me his skills with magic, already so refined even after only two years. I was fascinated by the way he performed, smoothly transitioning from explosive fire to sizzling lightning. He let the effects of blizzard fall around me, ice crystals settling into my hair, and I shrieked with delight. This seemed to please him; clearly, he didn’t get a chance to show off for others very often.

After those first few days, we developed a strong bond. He was different, just like me. I’d finally found a friend. He taught my small, trembling hands how to control their unseen power. His pet name for me was ‘doll,’ and he loved to commission new outfits to clothe me with. He showered me with more attention than the maids ever did when I was in their care as a babe. Once my magic was safely under my own jurisdiction, the real training began. He was harsh, cruel sometimes even, and I left our sessions with singes and burns more often than not. Despite this, he never let me go without healing me; I’m sure he wanted to keep my perfect porcelain skin intact. I quickly learned not to cry around him, as it only seemed to irritate him when I showed weakness. Instead I would softly weep in the safety of my own room after lessons were over. Over time I grew stronger and hardened, but I never completely lost my timid nature. Even after I became a powerful mage, I still remained quiet and meek. He didn’t seem to mind much, just as long as I did as I was told. And I always did. My dedication to his teachings only grew as I got older. He never stopped doting on me, and I never cowered from his expectations, even as his sanity began to shatter and eventually fade completely. He was my foundation, my one sure source of comfort and reassurance. I didn’t know what I would do, _could_ do, without him.

* * *

The first time they ever brought her to me, I was a little taken aback, and perhaps a little disgusted.

She was so… _small._ Her body was so feeble, her face so unsure. She wouldn’t meet my gaze for quite a while. Finally wide, lavender eyes trailed up to mine. “Are you a clown?” she’d asked quietly. Anger and amusement welled up inside me at the question. I allowed a small sneer to work its way onto my lips. “’I suppose you could say that. Though I prefer the term ‘court mage.’” Despite my ill first impressions, the way she delighted in my magic began to win me over. She obediently did as I told her, and it was extremely pleasing. I finally had someone to teach, someone who could learn to use magic without all the horrific side effects I’d had to endure.

She became my precious little doll used to carry out my bidding. Her magic grew powerful quickly and easily, and I couldn’t have been more satisfied with my own handiwork. The only thing I disliked was her weakness to emotion, that her first instinct was to cry when she failed or hurt herself. This never really went away, but I learned to cope with it. Her timid nature kept her easy to control, at any rate. She’d never once dreamed of disobeying my orders, which was one of her finest qualities. Complete and utter fidelity was crucial. Since I could never learn to control myself, I sought it out from others. I _craved_ it from others.

Though there were hiccups in our training, she never backed down from my challenges to strengthen her abilities. Her clothing—hand-picked by me, of course—would become singed, her perfect skin becoming burned. Luckily for her, I knew how to kiss all her boo-boos better with healing spells. That was never the case when I was first infused. She had a teacher who knew how to show her the best ways to learn. I never did. Hours and hours I spent in solitude, trying to make the spells bend to my will. Her magic, even when uncontrolled, was much more fluid than mine ever was. Explosions and crackles often overtook me, marring permanent scars into my flesh. That was when I first began applying white makeup to my skin, to hide the marks of my failures.

She didn’t need to know all that, though. She merely needed someone to teach her, to make her powerful. Solace was found in my presence, and she knew she could always turn to me when she needed something. I would provide her with whatever she required—comfort, praise, reassurance, a warm body to sleep against as she got older, perhaps. Whatever it took to keep her for myself. She was my little magic user, my little toy, and no one, _no one,_ could ever take her away from me. I’d sooner die, and take the whole world down with me, then let that happen.


End file.
